


my colorado (just like toronto)

by fraudulentzodiacs



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends With Benefits To Lovers, He's a disaster but he's Freddie's disaster, M/M, Miscommunication, Tyson is a bit of an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24990892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraudulentzodiacs/pseuds/fraudulentzodiacs
Summary: Freddie kisses Tyson for the first time after they lose to the Avs at home. He’s only been in Toronto for a few months, and the sting of losing to the team he called his for so many years it just…fucking sucks, so he doesn’t think twice before accepting Freddie’s invitation to his apartment. Tyson can’t say that he’s grown close to any of his new teammates since he arrived in Toronto, but Freddie’s known throughout the league as a decent dude, and Tyson doesn’t have any reason not to accept his overture of friendship except for the fact that he still feels wrong whenever he pulls on his new blue sweater with his new number and it’s just all wrong.
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/Tyson Barrie
Comments: 16
Kudos: 89
Collections: Pucking Rare - A Hockey Rarepair Challenge





	my colorado (just like toronto)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Tisaniere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tisaniere/pseuds/Tisaniere) in the [PuckingRare2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2020) collection. 



> Huge shoutout to @kkane88 for being the best beta a girl could ask for.

Freddie kisses Tyson for the first time after they lose to the Avs at home. He’s only been in Toronto for a few months, and the sting of losing to the team he called _his_ for so many years it just…fucking sucks, so he doesn’t think twice before accepting Freddie’s invitation to his apartment. Tyson can’t say that he’s grown close to any of his new teammates since he arrived in Toronto, but Freddie’s known throughout the league as a decent dude, and Tyson doesn’t have any reason not to accept his overture of friendship except for the fact that he still feels _wrong_ whenever he pulls on his new blue sweater with his new number and it’s just all wrong.

Tyson’s washing the plates they ate the pasta dish Freddie made off of when Freddie settles his hands on Tyson’s hips and nudges until Tyson turns in his arms. His kiss is gentle but insistent and Tyson whines in surprise but wraps his hands around Freddie’s neck and returns the kiss with enthusiasm. It’s been so long – too long – since Tyson’s had this, and he sinks into it as Freddie pushes him against the counter. Tyson will deny it until the day he dies, but he whimpers when Freddie pulls away to drop quick, biting kisses along his jaw before wrapping his teeth around Tyson’s ear.

“Is this okay?” Freddie asks softly, and Tyson nods so quickly he almost hits Freddie in the head.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely, totally okay.”

Freddie chuckles, but tugs on Tyson’s waistband and pulls him closer. Tyson goes easily, guiding Freddie’s face so he can kiss him again. Tyson groans when Freddie turns this kiss deeper, dirtier, and drags him in the direction of the bedroom. He tugs on Freddie’s button-up, pulling it free from Freddie’s pants and pressing him up against the wall. He thinks briefly about unbuttoning it with his teeth, but decides that will take too much time. Instead, he fumbles with the buttons as quickly as he can, kissing his way down Freddie’s chest as he goes. He makes a triumphant noise as he pops back up, dragging his teeth along Freddie’s shoulder as he shoves the shirt down and off onto the floor.

“Nice.” Tyson mumbles, pulling back enough to appreciate the solid wall that is Freddie. He’s almost a full head taller than Tyson, the perfect height for him to press his face into Freddie’s neck, sucking a mark into the space where his neck and shoulder meet. He smiles against the skin when he hears Freddie groan, his hand slipping onto Tyson’s curls and tugging until Tyson met his eyes.

“Bedroom.” Freddie orders, shoving Tyson further down the hall. Freddie’s bedroom is clean and simple, tidy and orderly, and Tyson briefly feels like a terrible adult until Freddie closes the door behind them and begins to tug on Tyson’s shirt.

“We’re wearing too many clothes.” Freddie grumbles, and Tyson swats his hands away so he can unbutton his shirt before grabbing at Freddie’s pants. They pool at his feet, and Tyson’s mouth goes dry as he takes in the image of Freddie in just his briefs. He’s half-hard, but the promise of what Tyson sees makes him want to drop to his knees right there. He realizes, suddenly, that there’s nothing stopping him, so he drops with a quiet thud. He rests his hands on Freddie’s thighs and mouths Freddie’s dick through his briefs. Freddie gasps above him, and Tyson grabs Freddie’s waistband and peels his briefs down. He leans back enough for Freddie to kick them off and away, and then he’s naked and Tyson can take in his fill.

“Are you just going to look?” Freddie asks, and Tyson smirks and takes him in hand, stroking him twice before lapping at the head, salty precome bursting on his tongue. He feels Freddie thread his hand through his curls again, not pushing or pulling Tyson but letting him know that he’s there. Freddie gasps when Tyson takes him into his mouth, relaxing his jaw so he can take as much as he can and letting his hands work the rest. Freddie’s a nice size, bigger than anything Tyson’s had in his mouth in a long time, and he’s a little high with it. Freddie’s hand tightens in his curls, his body tense, and he groans when Tyson pops off and looks up at him.

“You can fuck my face, if you want.”

“Jesus.” Freddie mutters, and Tyson grins devilishly before getting back to work.

This time, Freddie’s hand in his hair guides Tyson’s head, working his dick further into Tyson’s mouth before his hips start stuttering. Tyson gags a few times when Freddie’s cock nudges the back of his throat, but he does his best to cover it up and take what Freddie’s giving him.

“Tyson, I’m close-“ Freddie warns, tugging on Tyson’s hair to try to pull him away, but Tyson hums and sucks on the head of Freddie’s dick. “ _Fuck_ , Tyson.” Freddie groans before he topples over the edge, Tyson doing his best to swallow every drop. Freddie pushes Tyson away when it becomes too much, and Tyson sits back on his heels and stares up at Freddie. He knows that he probably looks like a mess, lips red and eyes messy, curls wild, but Freddie stares down at him with something like fondness.

That’s how it starts.

“Damn, we’re really good at that.” Tyson’s breathing heavily, staring up at the ceiling while Freddie chuckles beside him.

“Yeah, we are.” Freddie agrees, twisting to drop a kiss to Tyson’s shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s such a good stress reliever.” Tyson turns his head and smiles at Freddie. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.” Freddie rolls his eyes, but smiles back at Tyson. “It’s such a hardship for me.”

Tyson kisses the grin off of Freddie’s face, and Freddie tries to pull the other man on top of him until Tyson pushes away.

“No, no, no, I’ve gotta go it’s super late.” Tyson argues, pressing a hand on Freddie’s chest so he can sit up.

“You could just stay.” Freddie offers, and Tyson rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, except you’re having breakfast with Matty and Marns in the morning. What are they going to think when they show up and I’m here in my boxers?”

“They know we’re sleeping together.” Freddie shrugs.

“Yeah, but we’re not _spending the night_ sleeping together.” Tyson jumps up and pulls his pants on.

“Yeah, of course.” Freddie replies, his voice soft. “You can let yourself out?” He asks, turning his back to Tyson and pulling the sheets up around his shoulder.

“Yep. See you at practice?” Tyson’s voice is muffled by him pulling his shirt over his head and Freddie hums his agreement.

Sleeping with Freddie makes the transition to the Leafs somewhat easier. Tyson still misses his Avs family like a missing limb, but it’s soothed when Freddie trails kisses down his chest, or bends him over the back of the couch, or lets him ride his dick until Tyson wants to cry from it. For a moment, he can forget just how unhappy he is in this strange city, with this unfamiliar team, counting down the days until his contract is up and he can find something that’s a better fit.

They lose spectacularly to the Hawks, and Tyson feels like he’s going to come out of his skin. He wants to climb the walls of the locker room, angry at himself and this team and the world. He wants to jam his face into his jersey and scream himself hoarse. The thought of going back to his empty apartment makes him want to rip the jersey in half, so instead he walks over and leans over Freddie’s stall. He seems just as pissed off, just as worked up, and he seems to read Tyson’s mind before he can even get the words out.

“Want to come to my place?” Tyson asks, and Freddie shakes his head.

“My place is closer.” Freddie tells him, and Tyson grins.

“Jesus _fuck_.” Tyson groans, collapsing in a heap on top of Freddie. He feels Freddie wrap his arms around his back, holding him in place as he continues to fuck into him slowly. Tyson whimpers, oversensitive, and lets Freddie turn them until he’s pressed into the mattress, Freddie’s solid weight above him.

“You okay?” Freddie asks, and Tyson nods.

“Yeah, yeah go for it dude.” Freddie rolls his eyes with what Tyson thinks is fondness, but Tyson has to close his eyes and groan when Freddie thrusts into him again. He’s too old for his dick to be interested again this quickly, but it makes a valiant effort when Freddie nails his prostate. He wraps his arms around Freddie’s neck, tugging him down so he can kiss him as Freddie continues to fuck him. It devolves from kissing into basically just breathing against each other’s lips, but it also means that Tyson can catch every groan and gasp Freddie makes as he chases his own orgasm. He holds him tight as he feels Freddie stiffen above him, going silent as he fills the condom with a groan.

Tyson holds Freddie through it, until he slips out of Tyson and falls to the other side of the bed. Tyson watches him, blissed out, before he comes to enough to take care of the condom and snuggle against Tyson. Tyson likes this, the quiet after, when they’re both languid and satisfied. It’s one of the few times Tyson feels comfortable in his skin these days, and he doesn’t hesitate to slip his arm under Freddie’s neck and pull until the bigger man is tucked into his shoulder. Freddie’s arm wraps around his waist, a thick thigh coming to rest over Tyson’s own. They lay like that for longer than Tyson’s usually able to sit still, soothed when Freddie’s hand comes up from his waist to trace lazy patterns on his chest. It’s soft, intimate, and it makes Tyson feel comfortable and safe. He could fall asleep like this, with Freddie wrapped around him – in fact, he turns his gaze down to see that Freddie’s almost dozing. It would be so easy to just stay here, but Tyson knows that isn’t what this is. It’s stress relief, fun with no strings attached. Freddie has never indicated he wants anything more, and Tyson isn’t about to embarrass himself by asking for more from someone as perfect and out of his league as Freddie. He’d made that mistake once, years ago, and he’d learned. He was perfect for a good time, a workout, but at the end of the day he wasn’t worth the trouble that came with dating – especially when the other person was not only a man but a hockey player too.

He slipped his arm out from under Freddie, doing his best not to jostle him. His boxers and pants were, thankfully, nearby but his shirt was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re leaving?” Freddie asked, voice deep with sleep. Tyson looked over his shoulder and found Freddie watching him with a neutral expression.

“Yeah, need to get back to my place before it gets too late.” For a moment, Tyson thinks that Freddie is going to push, ask him to stay. Tyson’s not sure what his answer would be, but it doesn’t matter because instead Freddie just turns in the bed until his back is to Tyson.

“Night, Tyson.”

“Night, Fred.” Tyson thinks about leaning over the bed, dropping a kiss on the back of Freddie’s head, but he dismisses the urge just as quickly. He grabs a shirt off the top of the dresser and heads out.

He doesn’t realize until he’s back in his own apartment, getting ready for bed, that the shirt he grabbed wasn’t the one he wore on the way home from the arena. If he doesn’t change, choosing instead to sleep in Freddie’s shirt instead, well…no one has to know but him.

Freddie invites him over for dinner a few days later, and only raises an eyebrow when Tyson shows up with a clean and laundered _31_ shirt in his hand.

“I, uh, accidentally borrowed this the other night.”

“Yeah, yours is in the bedroom.” Freddie tells him, tossing his head toward the master. Tyson finds it neat and folded on the dresser, and Tyson lets himself imagine having a drawer of his own there for a moment before shaking his head and dropping Freddie’s shirt next to his.

When he gets back to the kitchen, Freddie hands him a block of cheese and directs him to grate it into a waiting bowl.

“Are you excited about the All-Star Game?” He asks as he works, and Freddie shrugs.

“I guess. I think I’d rather have the days off, maybe go on vacation.”

“Yeah, I’m leaving tomorrow for the Bahamas.”

“By yourself?”

“No, I’m meeting Chubbs – uh, Jamie Benn – and Seguin’s coming after the All-Star game. A few other guys and their girlfriends.”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t know you knew them.”

“Yeah, Chubbs and I grew up together. We played together in Victoria, Kelowna too.” Freddie’s quiet for a long time, so long that Tyson thinks that’s the end of the conversation.

“Is it true?” He finally asks, faux casualness in his voice. “About him and Seguin?”

Tyson had heard the rumors for years, from almost the moment Segs had been traded to Dallas. Had teased Jamie for his crush until his friend’s face was bright red and he was shoving Tyson away. It was something of an open secret among their friends, once they finally _did_ get together. Tyson isn’t sure how Jamie would feel about him telling Freddie, but Tyson knows Freddie is trustworthy, and…well, it’s not like he wasn’t into guys, too.

“Uh…yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

“Hmm.” Freddie replies, his focus on the sauce in front of him. “And they’re…happy?”

“Yeah, they are. They’re good together. Segs is a little wild, but Chubbs kind of keeps him on the ground. He makes Chubbs happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

“It must be hard, hiding your relationship from everyone.”

“Their families know, their friends. I think the fans just think they’re super private about their personal lives.”

“But they make it work?” Freddie asks, and Tyson tosses down the grater and faces Freddie.

“Where is this coming from?”

“I’m just curious.” Freddie doesn’t look up from his sauce, and Tyson rolls his eyes and goes back to his cheese.

They don’t talk about it again, but Freddie seems lost in thought for most of the night. He even lets Tyson pick the movie they watch on Netflix, wraps an arm around Tyson’s shoulders and pulls him in, and if anyone else told Tyson about this he’d call it a date. He refuses to go there, though, and instead lets Freddie’s warmth lull him into relaxation until he’s asleep against his teammate.

“Tys, come on.” Freddie’s voice pulls him back to the real word, and Tyson can’t help but smile when he opens his eyes and finds Freddie staring down at him with something that looks suspiciously like fondness. “You can’t sleep on the couch.”

“Oh, I fell asleep?”

“Yes.” Freddie chuckles, helping Tyson sit up. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“What time is it?” Tyson asks, reaching for his phone and finding that it’s after midnight. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We don’t have time for sex!” Tyson whines, and slaps Freddie’s hand away when he ruffles his curls.

“That’s okay. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“No, I need to go home. I have a flight tomorrow.”

“I’ll wake you up in time.” Freddie promises, and Tyson shakes his head.

“I’ll just head back to my place.”

“You could stay.”

“Nah, I don’t want to inconvenience you man. You’re not even getting any, I’m not going to make you wake up early on top of that.”

“Tyson.” Freddie’s tone is soft, flat, and it makes Tyson stop in his tracks. “Please, stay.”

When Tyson turns back to face Freddie he’s tense, like he’s waiting for a hit, watching Tyson with an unreadable look in his eyes. Tyson deflates, like someone’s cut his strings. He knows what this is, what they have going on, that Freddie’s just being nice, but maybe he can pretend it’s something else for just one night.

“Yeah, okay, thanks.” He crosses the space between them and presses himself into Freddie’s space, melting when Freddie’s arms wrap around him.

“Good.” Is all that Freddie says, and guides them to his bedroom. Tyson strips out of his jeans and pulls his shirt over his head. He glances over at the two t-shirts lying on Freddie’s dresser – one _31,_ one _94_ – and hesitates before grabbing the one he’d brought with him. Freddie doesn’t say anything, but Tyson shrugs as he watches Freddie change into a pair of sleep pants and crawl into his side of the bed.

“Yours is bigger, better for sleeping.” Tyson slides in next to Freddie. It’s weird, going to bed together instead of falling into it, and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do until he turns his back to Freddie and Freddie tucks himself behind Tyson, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his hand on Tyson’s chest, rubbing where his number sits above his heart.

“You can keep it.” Freddie mumbles, dropping a kiss on Tyson’s shoulder. “Goodnight, Tys.”

“Goodnight.” Tyson replies softly, surrounded by Freddie’s warmth, and he’s asleep almost before he gets the word out.

His alarm goes off at an ungodly hour, and he manages to slip out without waking Freddie. He just manages to get back to his place, grab his bags, and race to the airport to make his flight. Jamie’s there when he gets to the resort, drink in hand and one waiting for Tyson.

“I knew you were my favorite.” He tells his best friend in greeting, taking the drink and collapsing into the chair next to him.

“It’s all I ever wanted in life.” Jamie replies, in the monotone voice he uses when talking to the media.

“I knew it.” Tyson takes a sip of his drink and watches Jamie stare at his phone.

“Missing your boy already?”

“Shut up.”

“Aww, it’s okay Chubbs. It’s cute watching you be so stupid over someone.”

“Your face is stupid.” Jamie grumbles, tucking his phone away.

“Good one, bud.”

A few of the other guys trickle in as the day goes on, Kerfy and his girlfriend the last ones to arrive just before they’re supposed to meet for dinner. Tyson checks his phone as he’s getting ready, finding a single text from Freddie from a few hours ago.

 **The Big Red Unit** (4:32pm)

Hope you had a safe flight.

 **Tyson** (7:03pm)

Hey, yeah, got here a few hours ago. Good luck at the ASG!

He tucks his phone away and heads downstairs, finds a seat between Jamie and Kerfy and proceeds to get exceedingly drunk. He ends up listing into Jamie’s space, until he shoves him off and sends him flying into Kerfy’s waiting arms. Kerfy pats his head affectionately and lets him lean on his chest. He smiles at Marissa on Kerfy’s other side, and she reaches over to tweak his nose.

“What’s on your mind, Tbear?” She asks, and Tyson sighs.

“I miss Freddie.”

“Freddie Andersen, Freddie?” Kerfy asks, and Tyson nods against his chest.

“Yeah, miss his…y’know, everything. Shoulda stayed in bed this morning.”

“You, uh, were in bed with Freddie this morning?” Marissa asks, and Tyson nods again.

“Mmm-hmm. He’s just so…y’know?” Tyson thinks he makes some kind of vague hand gesture that encapsulates just how neat he thinks Freddie is.

“Oh no.” He hears Kerfy say above him. “Not again.”

“No, no, not again.” Tyson argues, sitting up so he can look Kerfy in the face. “This is not _again_ , this is _not_ like the Landy thing.”

“Please, Tys, no Landy.” Jamie chimes in, and Tyson waves him off.

“This is _nothing_ like Landy, okay? This is…it’s just, like, stress relief, okay? It’s purely a friends-with-benefits situation. No feelings, no crushing. Well…maybe some crushing.”

“Oh, gross, Tys.” Kerfy shoves him away, rolling his eyes with what Tyson hopes is fondness. “I don’t want to think about Freddie crushing you.”

“ _Hey_ , I could be crushing _him_!”

“Sure you could, honey.” Marissa reaches across her boyfriend to pat Tyson’s hand, and Tyson wants to hug her because she’s a _real_ friend.

“It’s just…a workout, it’s nothing.” Tyson promises, though it sounds hollow to his own ears.

“We just don’t want you to get hurt again.” Kerfy tells him. “We don’t want another Landy situation.”

Tyson flashes back, then, to five years ago. To being head over heels in love with his captain. To three years ago, drunkenly confessing his feelings while Gabe was briefly single and getting gently rebuffed because Gabe was _straight_ and Tyson _knew_ that. To two years ago, watching him marry someone that wasn’t him and nursing a broken heart. To getting traded, and suddenly being in a new, unfamiliar place thousands of miles from Gabe and dealing with an entirely new and different heartbreak.

“I won’t.” Tyson promises. “It’s not like that.”

Tyson passes out in his bed, suddenly thankful that kid-Tyson had chosen a solid refrigerator of a man like Jamie Benn to be his best friend, someone who could easily drag him to his room and dump him face-first on the bed. The sunlight streams in, and Tyson cracks an eye open to check his phone and finds that it’s already almost eleven. There’s a message notification, and he clicks on it to find a text from Freddie.

 **The Big Red Unit** (7:22am)

Text me when you wake up so I know you’re still alive.

Tyson feels fear pool in the pit of his stomach, and he scrolls up and confirms his worst fear, a series of texts sent from Tyson’s phone.

 **Tyson** (12:37am)

FREDDIE

 **Tyson** (12:57am)

FRED

 **Tyson** (1:20am)

I MISS U

 **Tyson** (1:49am)

Miss tht dck

 **Tyson** (2:10am)

Why u hav 2 b an al str cld bne hre with me

Hahqhqa

That loks lik anal

Tyson must have passed out at that point, and he collapses back on the bed and screams into his pillow because _what the fuck_ Drunk Tyson? Why would he betray Sober Tyson like this? He grabs his phone again, unlocks it, and confirms that he did, indeed, read what he did.

 **Tyson** ( _10:52am)_

I’m sorry. Had too much to drink last night.

He forces himself out of bed and into the shower, and when he returns he finds a reply from Freddie.

 **The Big Red Unit** (11:03am)

It’s okay. How are you feeling?

 **Tyson** (11:14am)

Like I drunk texted my teammate about how I missed his dick.

 **The Big Red Unit** ( _11:16am)_

Get some food you’ll feel better.

Tyson follows the orders given, and manages to make it downstairs in time to join Jamie for lunch. He can feel the judgement coming off of his best friend in waves, and he finally throws down the fry he’s holding and raises an eyebrow across the table.

“What?”

“What?” Jamie echoes, and Tyson considers picking the fry up again and throwing it at Jamie.

“I know you have something to say.”

“You’re the one who never shuts up.”

“Jamie.” Tyson warns, and Jamie finally sighs and puts on his Captain Face and Tyson wants to smash his head on the table.

“I’m just worried. This feels a lot like-“

“If you say anything that sounds remotely like Gabriel Landeskog I am leaving.”

“Tys, are you really hooking up with Freddie Andersen?”

“Yes.” Tyson replies after a long pause. “But this is different.”

“How?”

“Because Gabe was straight, and Freddie obviously isn’t?” Tyson points out. “And…it’s casual, just a way to burn some energy after a game. I’m not _in love_ with him, Jesus.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea? Hooking up with a teammate?”

“I mean…” Tyson swirls the fruity cocktail in his hand, refusing to look up at Jamie.

“No.” He finally admits, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “No, probably not. But…Jamie, you don’t understand. It’s been hard, since the trade. I don’t know anyone, except Kerfy. I practice, I play games, and I go home to an empty apartment.”

“You’re lonely.” Jamie confirms, and Tyson nods.

“Yeah, and Freddie is nice. He’s _kind_ , and hot, and he likes sleeping with me for some reason.”

“Hey, no trash talking my best friend.”

“You have to say that because you love me.”

“I really don’t.”

“Look, it’s just…it’s not like the Landy thing, okay? I promise. I’m not going to get my heart broken because it’s just a physical release thing.”

“I really don’t need to know about your physical releases.” Jamie’s nose scrunches up and Tyson finally gives in and tosses a fry at his face.

“Hey, I had to listen to all about the magical wonders of gay sex when you got together with Segs.”

“I never told you a single detail about my sex life.”

“No, but you know your boyfriend has never shut up about literally anything ever in his life.” Jamie just gets this fond, faraway look in his eyes as he thinks about Tyler, so Tyson rolls his eyes and eats his lunch.

 **Tyson** (11:03AM)

Saw you on IG, that helmet is hella cute.

 **The Big Red Unit** (11:47AM)

Thanks

 **Tyson** (12:11:PM)

Where’s my tribute helmet?? I suck your dick on the regular.

 **The Big Red Unit** (12:32PM)

Don’t think they’ll let me put “Tyson Barrie sucks my dick” on a helmet

 **Tyson** (12:36PM)

Putting that on my resume

The rest of the bye week flies by, and before he’s ready Tyson is back on a plane, this time to Nashville for their next game. He ignores the way something settles in him when he locks eyes with Freddie in the locker room, the way his heart skips when Freddie smiles at him, dropping his hand on Tyson’s shoulder and squeezing on his way out for morning skate. He feels keyed up, and when they go back to the hotel for their pre-game naps, he fights the urge to go up to Freddie’s room. They don’t do what they do on the road, and they definitely don’t _nap together_. So, instead, he tosses and turns and dozes until it’s time to leave for the game. He manages an assist on Hyms’ goal, and doesn’t draw any penalties, and they win 5-2 so they’re all riding high when Matty and Marns declare that they’re going out to celebrate. Nashville’s a great party town, the arena only a few blocks from one of the most popular nightlife areas. They bounce around a few bars before they settle in the VIP area of a club, and Tyson’s managed to stay fairly sober, nursing the same beer since they got here.

He finds Freddie talking quietly to Matty in a corner, their heads close and the hint of a smile on Freddie’s face. The smile grows a little when he spots Tyson, and he cocks his head in an invitation to join them. Tyson lets himself press into Freddie’s space just a little bit, but he tenses when Freddie slips an arm around his waist, his attention still on Matty. Matty glances down at the hand on his hip, raises an eyebrow, but keeps listening to Freddie.

“I didn’t know you two were…” Matty finally says after a few minutes, and Tyson feels Freddie’s hand squeeze his side.

“It’s just a casual thing.” Tyson replies, trying to make his voice light and airy. “You know, work off some steam. Best workout I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, yeah?” Matty asks, looking to Freddie. Tyson follows his gaze and finds something unreadable there. Freddie’s arm slips from around his waist and Tyson suddenly feels colder.

“Yeah, y’know how it is.” Tyson tries, a chuckle erupting from his throat that sounds forced and awkward.”

“Yeah, sure.” Matty sounds unconvinced, and Tyson suddenly feels like he’s done something horribly wrong. He looks to Freddie again, but he’s downing his drink and setting it on the table.

“I’m going to head back to the hotel. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“I’ll come with you; I’m beat.” Matty offers, and Freddie nods. “Night, Tyson.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” Tyson feels a lump in his throat, like he wants to cry, and he can’t figure out _why_ , especially when Freddie leaves without so much as a goodbye.

Kerfy’s the only one who talks to him on the plane, which isn’t completely out of the norm, but it’s the first time he’s felt like he’s being purposefully ignored. Freddie won’t look at him, and when Matty and Marns glance his way it’s like they’re _mad_ and he can’t understand why.

When they are deplaning, Freddie’s putting his things together and Tyson grasps his elbow with his hand.

“Hey, could I come over later?” He asks, and Freddie doesn’t move his eyes from his bag.

“I’m tired.” Freddie tells him. “Another time.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tyson hopes he doesn’t sound as disappointed as he feels. It’s the first time Freddie’s ever rejected him; told him he wasn’t welcome. It hurts more than Tyson expected. Kerfy gives him a ride to his apartment, and it’s so quiet and empty and Tyson doesn’t think he’s felt this alone in Toronto in months. He throws together some pasta for lunch, texts the dogsitter to find out when he can come and pick up Ralph, and tries to find something on Netflix to distract him. He’s halfway through an episode of Mindhunters when there’s a knock on his door. His heart leaps into his throat at the thought that it’s Freddie on the other side, and he tries not to hide his disappointment when it’s Matty and Marns.

“What’s up guys?”

“Can we come in?” Matty asks, his expression serious, and for a moment Tyson considers telling them no. But, they’re his teammates, so he steps aside and lets them in. They go to the couch, sitting next to one another and doing that silent communication thing they do as Tyson takes a seat across from them.

“Why are you guys here? Not that you’re not welcome-“

“We’re here about Freddie.” Marns interrupts. “Well, about _you_ and Freddie.”

“Okay…” Did Freddie send his two best friends to end…whatever they’d been doing? Tyson knew they were casual, but he thought Freddie would at least tell him he wasn’t into it anymore in person.

“I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know that Freddie doesn’t…well, he doesn’t really do the whole casual sex thing.” Matty tells him. Tyson laughs, shaking his head.

“But that’s what we’ve been doing for months, of course he does.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Matty presses. “Did you guys even talk before you fucked?”

“Of course we did!” Then, Tyson really thinks about it, and…did they? He just remembers Freddie kissing him in the kitchen and then going to his knees for him and being super into it. He tries to think if they talked about it at _any_ point and can’t find an answer. “It’s always been a casual thing, a workout, a way to blow off some steam.”

“Yeah, that’s what you’ve been telling _literally everyone_.” Marns snaps. “Any time it comes up anywhere you start running your mouth about how it’s the greatest workout you’ve ever had, how Freddie doesn’t mean anything to you, while he was thinking that you guys are fucking _dating_ this whole time.”

“He…what.” Tyson shakes his head. “He doesn’t – he never said – he doesn’t want that with me.”

“Yeah, he does. He thought y’all were already there.” Matty presses. “He thought that you were, y’know, _together_ , and then you told everyone and their mother that you weren’t interested in anything more than fucking him.”

“Freddie’s our best friend. So, if you’re not interested in actually being with Fred, you need to apologize for giving him the wrong idea and let him move on, because the dude’s been crazy about you since you got here and it’s not fair.” Marns tells him.

“I-He wants to be with me? For real?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Marns looks incredulous. “You’re fucking awesome, bud.”

“I…am?”

“Of course. You’re one of us.” Matty reaches over and smacks his thigh. “So, does this mean you’re going to fix things with the Big Red Unit?”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah.”

“Cool!” Marns jumps up. “Our work here is done.”

He pulls Matty up and turns toward the door before moving his gaze back to Tyson, suddenly serious. “Just so you know, if you hurt him again, teammate or not we will be forced to kill you.”

Tyson doesn’t get up as they leave. His instinct is to go to Freddie and fix this now, but he needs to think. He goes to sleep early and works on what he wants to say to Freddie. This isn’t like the Landy thing at all. Apparently, Freddie _likes_ likes him, and he’s not going to screw this up any more than he already has.

He’s going to get this right.

He gets up early and heads for Freddie’s apartment, hoping to catch him before he leaves for practice. He’s still not entirely confident that Matty and Marns were right, that Freddie has actual real feelings for him, but even if he doesn’t Tyson’s obviously screwed up and he has to make it right.

Freddie’s still sleep-rumpled when he answers the door, looking unbearably soft in worn, faded Ducks sweatpants and a gray t-shirt, his hair pressed to his head on one side and sticking up straight on the other. Tyson thinks he’s never looked better. Some of the sleep seems to fade from his eyes when he recognizes Tyson, something neutral and unreadable masking his features.

“Hey.” Tyson greets, shifting from foot to foot. “Can I come in?”

Freddie looks like he’s going to refuse him, but eventually he turns his back to Tyson and walks further into his apartment, leaving the door open.

“Coffee?” Freddie asks from the kitchen, pulling down two mugs.

“Yeah, thanks.” Tyson watches as Freddie reaches for the peppermint mocha creamer in the fridge, and Tyson feels something twist in his stomach. Freddie hates creamer, but knows that Tyson loves it, especially anything peppermint. He makes Tyson’s coffee exactly like he prefers and slides it across the breakfast counter into his hands. Tyson takes a sip, the warmth filling him immediately. He watches Freddie, who’s still not really looking at him.

“Can we talk?” Freddie looks up at that, shrugs, and Tyson follows him into the living room. He makes sure that they sit a few feet apart, wanting to give Freddie space. He drinks his coffee, his leg jostling, and stares down at the floor.

“Well?” Freddie finally asks. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tyson sets his coffee on the table and runs his sweaty palms over his thighs. He can do this. “I wanted to apologize. I think…I think we may have gotten some of our wires crossed. I may have said some things I shouldn’t have and…I’m sorry.”

“I think…” Freddie pauses, running his thumb over his lower lip, and Tyson can’t help but follow it. “I think we both haven’t said some things that should have been said.”

“Do you want to date me?” Tyson blurts out, and Freddie freezes. Shit. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, blurt it out like that. I just…I thought that you wanted this to be casual, but it may have been brought to my attention recently that you…don’t.”

“I don’t.” Freddie says after a long moment, and Tyson feels his heart crack in his chest.

“Okay, that’s cool. I get it. I, uh, I should probably go.”

“No!” Freddie jumps up, closing the distance between them. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that I don’t want this to be casual.” He towers over Tyson, makes him feel small, and Tyson shivers when he runs his hand down Tyson’s arm. “I really would like to date you, if you want the same thing. I thought that’s what we were doing until…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry that I ran my mouth like that. I just…I couldn’t imagine someone as amazing as you wanting to be with me as anything more than, like, a booty call.”

“Why do you do that?” Freddie’s brow furrows, and Tyson shrugs in question. “Put yourself down like that.” He clarifies, and Tyson shrugs again.

“It’s just easier.”

“For the record, I think you’re pretty amazing.” Freddie cups his cheek, and Tyson lets himself turn into it.

“You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.” Tyson almost bites his tongue so hard it bleeds, why does he always _say things_ like that?

“Right,” Freddie leans down and kisses him softly, a fond smile on his face when he pulls away. “So, no one’s allowed to insult my boyfriend, even you.”

Tyson feels his cheeks heat up, and he covers it up by pulling Freddie down into another kiss.

“Boyfriend.” He mumbles against Freddie’s lips, and Freddie nods slightly before kissing the smile off of Tyson’s face.

 _Boyfriends_.


End file.
